tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53730704119993832132024-02-06T22:35:25.125-08:00Why is an Orange?A blog about everyday adventures.Why is an Orange?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14031581638604813320noreply@blogger.comBlogger98125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5373070411999383213.post-11188445434115810902015-07-03T04:45:00.000-07:002015-07-03T04:45:58.474-07:00'Super series' - Illustration 2Our next illustration is again informed by the Arkham Knight batman game, which has been a popular discussion point lately. This drawing, again by the talented M, is Poison Ivy. Anyone who has played the new game will recognize the lack of pants. Honestly not sure why the game makers chose to have her pants-less, but creative license will prevail and all that.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirRAvR21M-I2B3XgOpA4fSXOO3YxfIAypEYNNSDlinEvZQUEi8GiySXlNy_kbhGw_ZMlw0cuiD9HRr48XYWl0eKVT5CyY5lyL0Mb3wK50hSJbj_t45JePFsk-mAO0UzM48yqW8jusfGuIJ/s1600/Poison+ivy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirRAvR21M-I2B3XgOpA4fSXOO3YxfIAypEYNNSDlinEvZQUEi8GiySXlNy_kbhGw_ZMlw0cuiD9HRr48XYWl0eKVT5CyY5lyL0Mb3wK50hSJbj_t45JePFsk-mAO0UzM48yqW8jusfGuIJ/s640/Poison+ivy.jpg" width="418" /> </a> </div>
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In case you haven't played this new Arkham game, I can tell you, as an outside observer, this is a fairly accurate rendition of the character. Except the 'pew pew'. Still not clear on that. </div>
<br />Why is an Orange?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14031581638604813320noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5373070411999383213.post-19115693953035640812015-07-01T16:13:00.001-07:002015-07-01T16:13:16.673-07:00Presenting: the first in a series of original artworksSo M has discovered that the 'Memo pad' app on our brother's Samsung phone has a draw function. Which leads me to present, without further ado (okay, there's going to be a little ado, but more of an explanation 'ado' than a pomp and circumstance 'ado'), in honour of the Arkham Knight Batman game, "Batman"<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNCW4FoHWSn2Lfc_y5XN0595Vb7oGn8nD5c9SQXLEetykjXfsd44cuuJsmDeRRSH76ds4Spcjri2wJ_lJ-2ql18qRFRyHKo6tlLgXUKtBNUni-dNnL-1STbPvMp7i4HBbH-3rmx4J5XnNq/s1600/Batman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNCW4FoHWSn2Lfc_y5XN0595Vb7oGn8nD5c9SQXLEetykjXfsd44cuuJsmDeRRSH76ds4Spcjri2wJ_lJ-2ql18qRFRyHKo6tlLgXUKtBNUni-dNnL-1STbPvMp7i4HBbH-3rmx4J5XnNq/s640/Batman.jpg" width="419" /></a></div>
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Why the 'Pew Pew' you may ask. I don't know. I didn't draw it. But it seems to be a recurring theme in what we will call the "super series". Stay tuned for more majestic illustrations.Why is an Orange?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14031581638604813320noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5373070411999383213.post-90433640068324839622015-01-17T10:11:00.001-08:002015-01-17T10:11:22.379-08:00DIY Bangs - what I've learned<i><a href="http://whyisanorange.blogspot.com/p/about-us-about-our-blog.html">Posted by K </a></i><br />
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I think I mentioned before, probably about a year ago I started growing my hair out, mainly as part of my cost savings exercise (I love me some short hair but that is $$ to maintain!). I also stopped dying it red (they discontinued my colour :( ) but I'm going to keep drawing it red for clarity's sake between me and M.<br />
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This summer my hair reached that 'slightly past a bob but still awkward to put up' stage, and I was not loving it. I was bored.<br />
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I decided to go with what they call a "blunt" bang as it sounded straight forward. I conducted thorough research (i.e. googled 'blunt bang' in images), picked a couple of pictures to put on my phone and pretty much went for it.<br />
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Inspiration:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiXSi2XGluyHbkm7ZxCF-2hAnm-h9OyKdGDtIGc3hbZjvuKliNw9TW3pfatmz-u398DB2VHMSk6_OFPFMLYKEG6UCovKyzaE3geoxEIoSckERFWm3TGT1GroIS3DshR-DGBinctWWGEnk1/s1600/banginspiration1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiXSi2XGluyHbkm7ZxCF-2hAnm-h9OyKdGDtIGc3hbZjvuKliNw9TW3pfatmz-u398DB2VHMSk6_OFPFMLYKEG6UCovKyzaE3geoxEIoSckERFWm3TGT1GroIS3DshR-DGBinctWWGEnk1/s1600/banginspiration1.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBdkzGpzlmPSNFrZoQcJWsSdMadmuvnKKEa1hOssBFM8obqGzcxRI55GoiXFxjFjWv4S8WDosNJpv8BD4o2YCatlaaaR_e_25rG8T3wlzhLLGpi_LIQ1TBQhagX7O5BsppkfN99-7KpbLI/s1600/bangsinspiration2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBdkzGpzlmPSNFrZoQcJWsSdMadmuvnKKEa1hOssBFM8obqGzcxRI55GoiXFxjFjWv4S8WDosNJpv8BD4o2YCatlaaaR_e_25rG8T3wlzhLLGpi_LIQ1TBQhagX7O5BsppkfN99-7KpbLI/s1600/bangsinspiration2.jpg" height="320" width="241" /></a></div>
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I grabbed the scissors and had at it!! Of course what my extensive planning didn't take into account is the fact I have fine/thin hair.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6f4mDaurzkhQkbs9DaJA85L9LM7rSNOZP8_f2PJBe4fdSXpyaUkAcr7LZ6tSK6m49w_APhh-Mw7BST1Vy1aGkGYzLd-KbS9OHvQHH830mRb1mXkBpGrwGn1e_vCARPHWDWmoOnussIFt4/s1600/bangs2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6f4mDaurzkhQkbs9DaJA85L9LM7rSNOZP8_f2PJBe4fdSXpyaUkAcr7LZ6tSK6m49w_APhh-Mw7BST1Vy1aGkGYzLd-KbS9OHvQHH830mRb1mXkBpGrwGn1e_vCARPHWDWmoOnussIFt4/s1600/bangs2.png" /></a></div>
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I kept adding more hair to make it look less stupid, but I still wasn't sold.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdQdsjdZReWSHVkltSaSG8OW6MW_1_jwTj60TJQqH8A_6oO9W78c-995V3T4Fx-385nvvepU9VcVXGv4VL0Bl2j0sMh7E0gxjl1w5wIW59Ac-5D6CS0Ad0H4klJZj5LkopRfbpe2ZP-Wjf/s1600/bangs3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdQdsjdZReWSHVkltSaSG8OW6MW_1_jwTj60TJQqH8A_6oO9W78c-995V3T4Fx-385nvvepU9VcVXGv4VL0Bl2j0sMh7E0gxjl1w5wIW59Ac-5D6CS0Ad0H4klJZj5LkopRfbpe2ZP-Wjf/s1600/bangs3.png" /></a></div>
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You know that panicked feeling when you start doing something without thinking about it, and then realize you're have to go all in to fix it? It was like that. I kept quizzing friends and family: "should I add more? Does it look too short? Should there be more short stuff on the sides??"<br />
M suggested I add a bit more, but to make sure I stop after that. I half-listened,<br />
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It became a bit of an obsession. Everytime I washed my hair I'd keep adding more. The bangs were like quicksand...except on my face.<br />
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I finally reached a point where I felt I had achieved the 'blunt' bangs I wanted. The downside is they literally take up half my hair, I kid you not, when I turn sideways they are half my head.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkXoFxIRFhr1_vc_fLU7Q1OXZb0lX3Oc0mYovmsAYTkXV3w_lM7P1fIvabAj_e8zFihMHLVGP7XwoLiKFCE9JE1Hz3zeMy-XzlF81fXmwdIPnithF3aiUWhqGPUFE0gHvbeuPJ_LhAk_M8/s1600/bangs+4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkXoFxIRFhr1_vc_fLU7Q1OXZb0lX3Oc0mYovmsAYTkXV3w_lM7P1fIvabAj_e8zFihMHLVGP7XwoLiKFCE9JE1Hz3zeMy-XzlF81fXmwdIPnithF3aiUWhqGPUFE0gHvbeuPJ_LhAk_M8/s1600/bangs+4.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Le sigh.</td></tr>
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Oh well. I definitely like them, and I guess that means less hair to deal with! I have started to limit myself so I don't get into mullet madness territory. The struggle is real. And it's on my head.<br />
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So definitely a cautionary tale to people with thin hair, but you can get there if you COMMIT!!<br />
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<br />Why is an Orange?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14031581638604813320noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5373070411999383213.post-24143150040585436672014-12-03T08:21:00.000-08:002014-12-03T08:21:31.842-08:00Saga of the Windshield Wiper Fluid<i><a href="http://whyisanorange.blogspot.com/p/about-us-about-our-blog.html">Posted by K </a></i><br />
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<i><br /></i>I was encouraged to fill up my windshield wiper fluid yesterday in anticipation of the storm here today. <br /><br />It was -23 with the windchill so that was not awesome.<br />I lined up my equipment (and yes, my hood makes me look like a cone head, but it's really warm so I've accepted it)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimS1EUUeR2VrshxKI6nuWJTBien0M7kcWmOvwcCGHCzlLgUJS37pfk7BSV4k2COvra5uVNQHsKSCAdc8-128r7yzHfkOYPj0YI7UA5o-AZ4kS-DnTJ2VdJR1oWDAV71_pPIWAqEVTqlDlv/s1600/windsheild1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimS1EUUeR2VrshxKI6nuWJTBien0M7kcWmOvwcCGHCzlLgUJS37pfk7BSV4k2COvra5uVNQHsKSCAdc8-128r7yzHfkOYPj0YI7UA5o-AZ4kS-DnTJ2VdJR1oWDAV71_pPIWAqEVTqlDlv/s1600/windsheild1.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(1 jugs of fluid and a funnel*)</td></tr>
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<br />*side note, this funnel is the most useful thing ever, especially if you have trouble pouring a huge heavy jug into a tiny hole, like me. This tip brought to you by my Mom)<br /><br /><br />
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10 minutes later...</h3>
I could not for the life of me get that freaking hood to open. I popped it using the button but there's a magic latch I have to trigger as well. I have literally done this a dozen times, but no dice this time. I looked like I was try to rub a magic lamp or something.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxXS45Fl3VGdKbDGN7KIQZ9Tp1rdTiweyGOSbkzkrs649M1LgIki-NQwJ2BnyLiHPd_AxjJ4vBlFfyopBHxujW9XeSlhpDC_Rt8Ts3q5MPRB95s34UA_gxWla0fTPR123REPsUww2nNr71/s1600/windshield2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxXS45Fl3VGdKbDGN7KIQZ9Tp1rdTiweyGOSbkzkrs649M1LgIki-NQwJ2BnyLiHPd_AxjJ4vBlFfyopBHxujW9XeSlhpDC_Rt8Ts3q5MPRB95s34UA_gxWla0fTPR123REPsUww2nNr71/s1600/windshield2.png" /></a></div>
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<br />I even sacrificed my poor hand to the cold to try it and still no luck.<br />I had to check the owner's manual. I'm sure the people in my building with an overview of the parking lot enjoyed my antics.<br /><br />I don't know about anyone else, but no matter how many times I verify that I'm pouring it in the windshield fluid tube I always have a panic attack that it's the coolant tube or something <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhw5D1FQxkHkaU7yjihXQmxijPfrSQCVP4ySdvRzmO05EuQdYrHbb7zNNTmPMO5YBXVhnXCY_DHMgxy_7GixRYOnqpZFTYsAvkU_CNLfHcIicFGlQlRfoetg39L8TtUe3VdxSPbOlLs_kF/s1600/windshield3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhw5D1FQxkHkaU7yjihXQmxijPfrSQCVP4ySdvRzmO05EuQdYrHbb7zNNTmPMO5YBXVhnXCY_DHMgxy_7GixRYOnqpZFTYsAvkU_CNLfHcIicFGlQlRfoetg39L8TtUe3VdxSPbOlLs_kF/s1600/windshield3.png" /></a></div>
<br /><br />Anyway, all this to say, welcome to winter! Sarcastic Yay!<br /><i><br /></i>Why is an Orange?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14031581638604813320noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5373070411999383213.post-42182891651531160072014-09-27T12:49:00.002-07:002014-09-28T09:01:29.422-07:00Car News : Adventures in Tires<i><a href="http://whyisanorange.blogspot.com/p/about-us-about-our-blog.html">Posted by K </a></i><br />
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Okay, there's been a stupid long amount of time between our posts. I have no idea how to summarize the gap right now, so instead I will ignore it! One note though, my laptop died awhile ago so I managed to lose a bunch of my paint templates, so my drawings are going to be rough. Very rough.<br />
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Anyway, on to our first new post in forever! I present:<br />
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Adventures in Tires: First 9 months!</h2>
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For everyone out there like me who HATE the bus and desperately want a car, I've decided to evaluate my experience in car ownership. I ended up doing a lease takeover in December, so I have my car for 14 months (I figured this would mean I wouldn't be trapped if it didn't work out, and it was cheaper than buying a car outright).<br />
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It has been an adventure of highs and lows, and mainly I learned that it is always more money than you expect or plan for. Sigh. Anyway onto the post!<br />
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Week 1-3: Excitement!</h3>
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Much excitement and enjoyment, apart from several snow days when I didn't feel comfortable driving. Gas was more than I figured; I have a very long work commute and ended up needing to fill the tank about once a week. Still other than some slippery ice patches I was having a good time!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiazOxWNQzFdjX7kqw0ZReabx0MTv6SE3avASQvosO9-_zzByqglHXd8TiJGQqKAyg8WbwgRJpvsyvspf_Y3XVjx3Gvv5fqwxjekgbtNkyTlHQzam-od5Rtc_fmddNdw7mgjKqaEC0vMzqU/s1600/car1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiazOxWNQzFdjX7kqw0ZReabx0MTv6SE3avASQvosO9-_zzByqglHXd8TiJGQqKAyg8WbwgRJpvsyvspf_Y3XVjx3Gvv5fqwxjekgbtNkyTlHQzam-od5Rtc_fmddNdw7mgjKqaEC0vMzqU/s1600/car1.png" height="207" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Okay, so my drawing is a little rough. Sue me.</td></tr>
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Week 3: $45 Fly in the ointment </h3>
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Most of the week's work commute went well, until Thursday:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9-VSbd3F1TSHVzgopRulMyO54hbLfY_TGVxM1hlEDWmCpyR1-xRouqLpW-r3Hs-sBj28K3dUaxDq3Vw5bitX4kmTd6DnnUAf_qdhw3SlHQtfNdVcgvc68dUsB32_Lp5hyphenhyphenU8avy6z1B3C_/s1600/car2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9-VSbd3F1TSHVzgopRulMyO54hbLfY_TGVxM1hlEDWmCpyR1-xRouqLpW-r3Hs-sBj28K3dUaxDq3Vw5bitX4kmTd6DnnUAf_qdhw3SlHQtfNdVcgvc68dUsB32_Lp5hyphenhyphenU8avy6z1B3C_/s1600/car2.png" height="329" width="400" /></a></div>
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Thursday on my way to pick up the bro, the car suddenly started making noise and moving all over the road.<br />
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I handled the problem with dignity:<br />
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I was convinced the car was totally broken, a write-off. Then my brother kindly noticed the front right tire was flat. After a rescue from my brother in law, and a $45 patch, we were back in business!<br />
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Week 6: Why tire, why?</h3>
A couple weeks later, I noticed the car seemed to be pulling to the left. It turns out the front left tire had a slow leak. I had help monitoring it and keeping it filled every 3-4 days.<br />
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Week 15: What did I do in a past life to deserve this?</h4>
While driving solo to work on the Monday, I went to change lanes and accidentally bumped the curb. I pulled over initially, but everything looked fine, so I drove another 15 minutes. Then the car started pulling to the right like crazy.<br />
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I pulled over again, and found the front right flat. I decided that as a car owner I should be able to change a flat myself, so I got out the spare tire and jack. I got the car jacked up (in -20 degree C weather no less), but I couldn't seem to get the tire to lift up. That was when I looked behind me and discovered the back right tire was also flat. Sometimes I hate life. And the car.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFwE1g6aVr004xin9NMcYXEFiOSkFYVvVcPyea0-lCdYkJXf2v6tuwFbQ8tDX6nwh_Xb6bmak-N-jJl1hA2oKwO_YRGl7KPEKRPdidL_Vxiil_hxeqDiQpOALLLxoQnw_wLqzJJz-Io4l_/s1600/car4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFwE1g6aVr004xin9NMcYXEFiOSkFYVvVcPyea0-lCdYkJXf2v6tuwFbQ8tDX6nwh_Xb6bmak-N-jJl1hA2oKwO_YRGl7KPEKRPdidL_Vxiil_hxeqDiQpOALLLxoQnw_wLqzJJz-Io4l_/s1600/car4.png" height="176" width="400" /></a></div>
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After a long conversation with Toyota, I established that the car covered and I wouldn't have to sell my kidney to get a tow.<br />
<br />
Me: "Am I still covered under warranty?? Because I really can't afford this right now!"<br />
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Toyota: "I'm checking right now, hopefully it's ok"<br />
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Me: "Seriously, you need to tell me if I'm covered because I don't want the tow if I'm not!"<br />
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Toyota: ....<br />
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Me: "please please please please"<br />
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Toyota: "I am very happy to tell you the car is still under warranty!"<br />
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Me: "Oh thank god. You are awesome."<br />
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Then I had to describe the parking lot, which was another adventure in and of itself, but I digress.<br />
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Fast forward past another huge bill including 3 tire patches (the slow leak was fixed) and an alignment I was once again mobile. Much poorer, but mobile.<br />
<h3>
</h3>
<h3>
Week 20: Should I just drive this off a cliff and put me out of my misery?</h3>
Once again, I noticed the car was pulling to the right. I was now pretty good at testing the psi tire level, and the front right once again had a slow leak.<br />
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I refused to pay more for another patch so I started filling the tire ($1 at the gas station) about once a week.<br />
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Hatred level for car: very high.<br />
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<h3>
Week 25: New lease on life (just to be clear, old car, new tires!)</h3>
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With the help of M and my brother-in-law the car got some new, less evil tires. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLDjiwQVVWpyTNih0GYhKdhH_gQ9FVJJIvUL1UMmsFKl1KaPOwgHq9nE7BG3kqhk2sGTbZCh857K46lJNkWfXCj3pM_rW3I_KWJUEyPLPJZmBfYrIXArvuwoua-kK1JM1fFXcn4n_ETL8S/s1600/car5.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLDjiwQVVWpyTNih0GYhKdhH_gQ9FVJJIvUL1UMmsFKl1KaPOwgHq9nE7BG3kqhk2sGTbZCh857K46lJNkWfXCj3pM_rW3I_KWJUEyPLPJZmBfYrIXArvuwoua-kK1JM1fFXcn4n_ETL8S/s1600/car5.png" height="207" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shiny new tires!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<h3>
Week 36: Present day, extreme paranoia mixed with cautious optimism </h3>
9 months later, I am older, wiser, poorer...with about 5 months to go on the lease! I'll try and keep an update on if the car explodes. On the plus side, I do love driving, and I have definitely been healthier (less exposure to the germ factory that is the bus). We'll see how it goes...<br />
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<br />Why is an Orange?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14031581638604813320noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5373070411999383213.post-35297104727905492642013-09-01T14:03:00.000-07:002013-09-01T14:03:53.765-07:00Bus Points update<i><a href="http://whyisanorange.blogspot.com/p/about-us-about-our-blog.html">Posted by K </a></i><br />
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Today I did something I've been putting off for 8 months.<br />
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I tallied up my bus hours. And let me tell you, it was DEPRESSING. <br />
Also, surprisingly math-filled.<br />
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I had to sit down with 2 different agendas (2012 and 2013) and a calculator. And when I lost count of the total days for the third time I switched to using Excel. I even used a formula I remembered from university, which was freaking impressive (I think).<br />
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Just in case anyone doubts my commitment to an accurate time count, here is a screen shot of my various calculations:<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8SgnA8VY3AkHc5Yja0lQ2anfsmRl9h9x3BeEpSEj5xR7p5AiD5JOAg_sNdWXOwfrIbYWH-15ZQ6uCc1m88VZtBaXXcqJNFE4_2CaTPK3Xlxqc4Mqrn9zykj_8PVwc7hyphenhyphenV4qL6aDar3Zhq/s1600/spreadsheet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8SgnA8VY3AkHc5Yja0lQ2anfsmRl9h9x3BeEpSEj5xR7p5AiD5JOAg_sNdWXOwfrIbYWH-15ZQ6uCc1m88VZtBaXXcqJNFE4_2CaTPK3Xlxqc4Mqrn9zykj_8PVwc7hyphenhyphenV4qL6aDar3Zhq/s400/spreadsheet.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Complicated eh? All those numbers and columns. And rows.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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And all this on a Saturday!<br />
<br />
Anyway, as you can see on the left, I have crossed the thousand hour mark. If my math is correct, that is the equivalent of over 50 days. <br />
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Holy cow. I am not going to think about that one too much, or I may start screaming. Can that be right? If anyone finds a flaw in my math please let me know, I would be really happy to know that I did not waste a month and a half on the bus. Please.<br />
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In other (much happier) news, I passed my G2 Drive test this week!!!!!! For those unfamiliar with Canadian driving, there is a 3 grade system to get your licence, G1 (written test), G2 (driving test), G (highway exit test). I have written (and passed) the G1 3 times, it lasts for 5 years and has always expired before I tried my driving test.<br />
You may be asking why it took so long. That, my friends, is a story for another day. <br />
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Actually, now that I think about it, it's not that long: I didn't have $ for the driving lessons at 17, so I put it off, and basically that procrastination saw me through to this year, where I rewrote, then my brother-in-law was like "book your driving test, I'll take you driving", and a bunch of awesome people let me drive their cars for a month (which was very trusting/nice) and now I've finally passed! Yays!<br />
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Which brings me to my new goal: Stop before I live another 50 days on the bus :S<br />
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Or, in a more festive way:<br />
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Why is an Orange?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14031581638604813320noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5373070411999383213.post-35346234181925049712013-08-23T10:01:00.001-07:002013-08-23T10:01:50.659-07:00A brand new level of procrastination<i><a href="http://whyisanorange.blogspot.com/p/about-us-about-our-blog.html">Posted by K </a></i><br />
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<i> </i> <br />
Alright. So I'm a giant liar and I haven't posted all summer.<br /><br />
<br />What can I say; I suck.<br />
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Alot. <br />
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Now that we've got that out of the way, on with the post!<br /><br />This past month I decided to try a more positive outlook on life. Which is difficult for me because sometimes I feel like the universe has targeted me as some kind of cosmic joke.<br /><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEith402EXMftpyqq9jAQNMxwklPdXKPzQ3vQ4GN-LmX-NN0zoxT0Wg0Hi_6jDcEX2UAxVFAo5oTmzvOWvhIaseRi80w0VuxXfZa37wuOPH6afjNhgiDlqn_PZzNu6kXtgKJ6eD1Wl2Frieh/s1600/target.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEith402EXMftpyqq9jAQNMxwklPdXKPzQ3vQ4GN-LmX-NN0zoxT0Wg0Hi_6jDcEX2UAxVFAo5oTmzvOWvhIaseRi80w0VuxXfZa37wuOPH6afjNhgiDlqn_PZzNu6kXtgKJ6eD1Wl2Frieh/s320/target.png" width="291" /></a></div>
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Regardless, I've been giving it a shot.<br />
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To be honest, it's not gone well. For example, last Wednesday I started my morning like "This will be the bestest day ever!" Then my shoes literally disintegrated on my way into work and I was back to "this sucks out loud".<br />Anywho, we persevere. <br /><br />Since it's been awhile, here are some updates from my summer:<br />
<ul>
<li>I've reached 190 lunchmate points, which means I only need 60 more until I get a free movie. Aw yeaaah.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>They've discontinued my red hair dye. I am offically a blond again for the first time in about 10 years.</li>
</ul>
Feel free to post all your 'dumb blonde' jokes in the comments. Get it out of your system. Because if you say one to my face I will light you on fire.<br />
<br />Okay. That was pretty negative. Now I have to post something positive to outweigh it...<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin_95Kest7Vkyz7bRB-v8vQgsX4HnuDUhGyWoYjl_DNUcs1rnZcJcpMecub6I7YttZIyAYBwlDtdx1IJTTOH61J7TFho8p74uDGqfjlhfFkh5mHd-XRnVH1B0zxF4t_fdVGwKFv6DL5yS_/s1600/unicorn.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin_95Kest7Vkyz7bRB-v8vQgsX4HnuDUhGyWoYjl_DNUcs1rnZcJcpMecub6I7YttZIyAYBwlDtdx1IJTTOH61J7TFho8p74uDGqfjlhfFkh5mHd-XRnVH1B0zxF4t_fdVGwKFv6DL5yS_/s1600/unicorn.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Nailed it.<br />
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I'm actually liking the blonde now, plus I save the $$ on hair dye. Don't worry though. For the sake of clarity I'm continuing to draw myself with red hair. That way you can tell M and me apart. We are twins, you know. It would be extra difficult to tell us apart now, what with the same colour hair and all. And the fact that there are no facial features on our drawings.<br />
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But it's mostly the twin thing.<br />
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I'm hoping to post more about my summer, I won't make any promises though, because apparently I have no follow-through. Or maybe I just don't like rules. I'm sticking it to the man! Which in this case is me.<br />
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hmmm. I'm starting to see why the universe may want to mess with me. <br />
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Anyway, have great Fridays!!<br />
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<br />Why is an Orange?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14031581638604813320noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5373070411999383213.post-22386049010789349012013-07-30T16:38:00.000-07:002013-07-30T16:42:39.720-07:00Trip a little, Talk a little<em><span style="color: orange;">Posted by M</span></em><br />
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I've done quite a bit of travelling
across Canada this summer. It's been a fabulous time, with lots of
ups and downs (The Rockies...haha, I made a funny), tons of good
food (waiting in line for 40 mins for fish and chips in Victoria is ABSOLUTELY worth it!), and the best company (it's truly amazing my husband didn't throttle me after so many days in our car with me singing). During my time in the Canadian West and
the American North, I have learned many a good tip for the hopeful
traveller. Here are just a few of those tips:</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<strong>1. Tim Horton's is the BESTEST coffee
shop in the world.</strong></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
In Canada, nothing gets you going like
a double double:</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKnswLvw4g_BCFAAgtjkku1_mLXjWaP5YHkFjpiqGiaV-LZC-TRuUqFZ_Td2ALpocn1vLud7gchtkxLOrfAGjvcQu_uCYPpWh2T8H2k9NvFt7BydqZWV0CjeWgRIZjZTUEqr9cwsLJ_B1u/s1600/travel1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="368" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKnswLvw4g_BCFAAgtjkku1_mLXjWaP5YHkFjpiqGiaV-LZC-TRuUqFZ_Td2ALpocn1vLud7gchtkxLOrfAGjvcQu_uCYPpWh2T8H2k9NvFt7BydqZWV0CjeWgRIZjZTUEqr9cwsLJ_B1u/s640/travel1.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pre-coffee M is not pretty. And incoherently whiney.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifSlcUOwwPvP_Iz0I41BGLVNi4_Pk3dueDm0I14j9lBEta-9csuIoxwksNGGJI9DwHiUdpQEWGZKQm-dmuPfCJ-nCIXmaHKXo4aQH5yusPvizJdYw6EX9kP4f4qw4lMw_ew8YytwBOPITS/s1600/travel2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="368" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifSlcUOwwPvP_Iz0I41BGLVNi4_Pk3dueDm0I14j9lBEta-9csuIoxwksNGGJI9DwHiUdpQEWGZKQm-dmuPfCJ-nCIXmaHKXo4aQH5yusPvizJdYw6EX9kP4f4qw4lMw_ew8YytwBOPITS/s640/travel2.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The post-coffee M is equally unbearable, but ready to carpe my diem, baby!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
In the States, don't even THINK about
asking for a double double.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheOzVBeLoJRBmtHMgn-domNyNyY3VlChLDkuX9w7gP797KSOl6QQnHZJNsT_POPNZ-pEFnibgDCwn3k8bPTLx9pXXY57h8Ud1mGT9GwPkiAjw4JcjsBXRcxbJKInOt0sk3yjfVtGZixpWk/s1600/travel3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="348" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheOzVBeLoJRBmtHMgn-domNyNyY3VlChLDkuX9w7gP797KSOl6QQnHZJNsT_POPNZ-pEFnibgDCwn3k8bPTLx9pXXY57h8Ud1mGT9GwPkiAjw4JcjsBXRcxbJKInOt0sk3yjfVtGZixpWk/s640/travel3.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Every American coffee shop. Except Dunkin Donuts, but good bloody luck finding one of them right off the highway!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJWxqCI1nb_wQ1Fki0d2ugiRYQkLb6w0kgaREC0GKggr1sr896cV9xrK_sY4PHRLISy69MBU2AV1OKd5d7YJbSaRLYZ2dTF2SbcfR5D9swnJ9qkhKbgl-csnb1catprbhB3FVqwCct_8AL/s1600/travel4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="350" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJWxqCI1nb_wQ1Fki0d2ugiRYQkLb6w0kgaREC0GKggr1sr896cV9xrK_sY4PHRLISy69MBU2AV1OKd5d7YJbSaRLYZ2dTF2SbcfR5D9swnJ9qkhKbgl-csnb1catprbhB3FVqwCct_8AL/s640/travel4.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I think I finally understand the term 'swill'. And it was like $4. Le sigh.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<strong>2. Some American's seem to have a tendency to
overreact. They are very kind, but very loud.</strong><br />
<strong>
</strong>
<br />
In a North Dakota Subway washroom:<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1yUWapQEAT4LRMQH6CBmkTBYt-C10QP2JtWTvAKkdI-m8M4EScFGD4omy0xOMbv9cCsyIQEiJtOCaHNPVfJpaUpfsX4fQ1o-nG3eGIL50-3FND2SFk0Hpjsq3SOOwOZkatGXX7iH4Rq36/s1600/travel5.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="366" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1yUWapQEAT4LRMQH6CBmkTBYt-C10QP2JtWTvAKkdI-m8M4EScFGD4omy0xOMbv9cCsyIQEiJtOCaHNPVfJpaUpfsX4fQ1o-nG3eGIL50-3FND2SFk0Hpjsq3SOOwOZkatGXX7iH4Rq36/s640/travel5.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ok, the door was definitely locked, but apparently the door is broken.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit5TjS-sBxci_FLucmv25NXqJSO1pJzeDb0wtKZn2ohpgAIK5C_SjuNHIU9KQWtGR5X0gFsTfTyiBTCC7EhUewjkzWALhOAJPTiLb7-o1nFUaDr2eL1e-6rBxxwDb1v5K8N82Tp4sc8PrH/s1600/travel6.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="352" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit5TjS-sBxci_FLucmv25NXqJSO1pJzeDb0wtKZn2ohpgAIK5C_SjuNHIU9KQWtGR5X0gFsTfTyiBTCC7EhUewjkzWALhOAJPTiLb7-o1nFUaDr2eL1e-6rBxxwDb1v5K8N82Tp4sc8PrH/s640/travel6.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Literally every person in the restaurant thought she'd seen a heck of a lot more than she had. Walk of shame from the bathroom!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<strong>3. You should always camp with
a loved one, especially when the weather is below freezing.</strong><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz8mp7hC5GsSbwVRJe1R4evj4dYI6wJzL4ZTyaf_P7Quj3BRxddiJkEdeod4619npGtnMHNaHh-29rStRMKJ4WdkEzrK8Biac2BO_spe7gPfRc6ZmwICaL9a7pZ228rdFAo_cE3wihqXNr/s1600/travel7.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="352" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz8mp7hC5GsSbwVRJe1R4evj4dYI6wJzL4ZTyaf_P7Quj3BRxddiJkEdeod4619npGtnMHNaHh-29rStRMKJ4WdkEzrK8Biac2BO_spe7gPfRc6ZmwICaL9a7pZ228rdFAo_cE3wihqXNr/s640/travel7.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I quite easily would have stayed there for another two hours.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBD0ALbkFLoaxy27z7Otd5zayX_2Qw_HlBZn7TwlaUcAjQgx_f5my9JcsEjJpVzqwEJDs1eheYb3PiYi5sjVcq399VnOkc9jJl7LKmUAdvuarfQJBMELMEtoysZNvET88ux_Y7VKmUrpq9/s1600/travel8.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="350" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBD0ALbkFLoaxy27z7Otd5zayX_2Qw_HlBZn7TwlaUcAjQgx_f5my9JcsEjJpVzqwEJDs1eheYb3PiYi5sjVcq399VnOkc9jJl7LKmUAdvuarfQJBMELMEtoysZNvET88ux_Y7VKmUrpq9/s640/travel8.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tent down, me out of the tent, and car on the road. Be still my beating heart!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Happy travelling!<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
Why is an Orange?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14031581638604813320noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5373070411999383213.post-81119372432358841452013-05-22T04:23:00.003-07:002013-05-22T04:24:29.771-07:00I want my penny back.<i><a href="http://whyisanorange.blogspot.com/p/about-us-about-our-blog.html">Posted by K </a></i><br />
<br />
<i> </i> <br />
In case you don't live in Canada I've decided to provide some back story to the saga of the Canadian penny.<br />
<br />
Earlier this year, the Canadian government effectively decided to discontinue the penny. The reasons given are the high cost of manufacturing and handling for a coin that is essentially worth nothing. The new plan is that if a consumer buys something and pays with cash, the store will adjust the price to the nearest nickel (5 cents). The idea was that items with a final cost that ends with $0.01, $0.02, $0.06 and $0.07 would be rounded down, and $0.03, $0.04, $0.08, and $0.09 would be rounded up.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigy8RshQoq26gUHgyLddiDAL89LLMYq9hipsGF6q0K2orQuSHeu4-cuhUyqA9NvuvMtxUC7cPqvcGBaz5TJHjxa1HeuxfRPK88aGH2lq7BsX4dj0mv0Sjvhvf8Il_Q3541WDLp2UqVeJ0t/s1600/penny.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigy8RshQoq26gUHgyLddiDAL89LLMYq9hipsGF6q0K2orQuSHeu4-cuhUyqA9NvuvMtxUC7cPqvcGBaz5TJHjxa1HeuxfRPK88aGH2lq7BsX4dj0mv0Sjvhvf8Il_Q3541WDLp2UqVeJ0t/s1600/penny.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Behold! the glorious penny!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
I'm not sure if it's my irrational hatred of anything new, (or maybe paranoia), but I was definitely not excited to hear about this.<br />
<br />
I've already had my first annoying incident when I went to pay for some fast food:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgcRLg1HDc4lLFVaIAqrWqsNO5YN89BW7xg0LXKscuWqmKFoj2g94RYTyOhTcEZOAjTJy-C18Gvhx1vz_0b5PLiQ-8efzOgMCTOqmxiJtxGsr4ocv3KMVhCm3mx7FjDmjGDS_9i1RgUv9n/s1600/change1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgcRLg1HDc4lLFVaIAqrWqsNO5YN89BW7xg0LXKscuWqmKFoj2g94RYTyOhTcEZOAjTJy-C18Gvhx1vz_0b5PLiQ-8efzOgMCTOqmxiJtxGsr4ocv3KMVhCm3mx7FjDmjGDS_9i1RgUv9n/s1600/change1.png" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKPUBJE8O35Lmz4elHaSulPMH64WaHJxHFvHVIJTjJgPGHqu2BuUFw2kkH41OD5aWeBATwXQ6quiPejmkOG2BYvuioKQhIMFszdhemjCBMhTLZhgMc_tYVbDn-oVOjd_vidEIcwjRLewdl/s1600/change3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKPUBJE8O35Lmz4elHaSulPMH64WaHJxHFvHVIJTjJgPGHqu2BuUFw2kkH41OD5aWeBATwXQ6quiPejmkOG2BYvuioKQhIMFszdhemjCBMhTLZhgMc_tYVbDn-oVOjd_vidEIcwjRLewdl/s1600/change3.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I had to dig through my whole purse!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
I then complained to anyone that would listen how what the guy did must be illegal...<br />
<br />
That was when I found out that they didn't make the 'rounding' rules a law. It's a "guideline". Like "don't eat snacks after 7pm". Because we all follow those. There is no legal consequence for not following the rounding rules.<br />
<br />
<br />
And I know it's just 3 cents. But besides the principle of the thing, those 3 cents could really add up. I did the math. Which is saying something because I hate math.<br />
<br />
Say, hypothetically, that an iced cream costs $2.77 with tax. And say on one warm summer day, at a large chain of ice cream shops, 100 000 people buy iced cream with their change, that would add up to $3000 extra that belongs to people being paid to the stores.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvc1iVU_RTkrNcHHhE25zKZm4ZFKHkeNynMTDkcrGY2d2T24RViGqpS5notLzkphcj4OXFUSxMB0nvkNxg0bnoz_0OY95BdBYa0b60kFGWh4pGI8wP5SpM7HIUW3sEAhEKwW4BmGK8sQPR/s1600/change2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvc1iVU_RTkrNcHHhE25zKZm4ZFKHkeNynMTDkcrGY2d2T24RViGqpS5notLzkphcj4OXFUSxMB0nvkNxg0bnoz_0OY95BdBYa0b60kFGWh4pGI8wP5SpM7HIUW3sEAhEKwW4BmGK8sQPR/s1600/change2.png" /></a></div>
<br />
And that is just one hypothetical day and one hypothetical purchase! I don't think I've said hypothetical enough. Hypothetical!<br />
<br />
There.<br />
<br />
<br />
Anyway, so now I'm paying for everything with my credit card. Which makes for a completely ridiculous bill. $0.97 for a Score Bar, $2.54 for a small pack of Kleenex...but I digress.<br />
<br />
In conclusion, I want the penny back. It would be nice if just once my paranoia turned out to be wrong. But let's face it, they really are out to get us. ***cue twilight zone music<br />
<br />
<br />Why is an Orange?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14031581638604813320noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5373070411999383213.post-20642302273579040682013-05-05T17:05:00.003-07:002013-05-05T17:09:03.452-07:00What doesn't kill us...<i>Posted by M</i><br />
<br />
Do you ever find yourself questioning things that we do in society? Like, for what reason were certain norms and expectancies put into place? I think a lot of it has to do with a lack of wanting to see people behave as though we are characters from <i>Lord of the Flies</i>. (Sidebar: Poor Piggy. Is he not like the saddest character in literary history? I suppose the Mulberry faced boy is up there too.)<br />
<br />
I also think a lot of our normal pleasanteries are designed to test our patience and to see how far we can be pushed before we CRACK!<br />
<br />
I consider myself a decently patient person. But sometimes (more often if I'm low on caffeine) I find myself wanting to kick politeness to the curb (see <em>M-Hulk</em> post for what this might look like. SPOILER: It's not pretty).<br />
<b></b><br />
<b>Situation A: The local coffee joint</b><br />
<br />
My husband and I frequent a Tim's which is attached to an Esso station near work. We love this Tim's because they make consistently good coffee and are quick. Recently, a new employee has been testing my will. <br />
<br />
One morning, our order was concluded with a:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Ntcuh0JzHQcLHpq2G9cA5XLHUqwIOFSGRIQGv7jqRGBoj-_I8DU6jIwiWwoQtgn56DYFJnVlu-2QXIwabWbxiSdNtcOai-uF13cYnC1PihsuQutG8-FGvk_5I1JlsyxI8Dt8bI83tgml/s1600/soc1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Ntcuh0JzHQcLHpq2G9cA5XLHUqwIOFSGRIQGv7jqRGBoj-_I8DU6jIwiWwoQtgn56DYFJnVlu-2QXIwabWbxiSdNtcOai-uF13cYnC1PihsuQutG8-FGvk_5I1JlsyxI8Dt8bI83tgml/s400/soc1.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm SooOOOO sorry. Are two coffees not enough for you good sir? </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I could only gather that this type of blatant "you suck and are cheap" attitude caused his bosses to take him off of the speaker, as the next time he was at the cash register. His new way of testing us is to 'pretend' that the pay pass machine isn't working. (I say 'pretend' because I truly believe that a child could figure out how to work the pay pass machine...or would at least have more patience trying to).<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTwVNHfeddpaoFMz-leu32SZNrzM9exvVpQuanw37H40yJMeURIpPY28_2nhtSnqsxPzh4T8ZezVg9-mxhOm3IKGfefzy9TgockKQneL8Oj2diXlLL9OIymjLq1ma7bTbUH6GB8TSjuEiw/s1600/soc2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTwVNHfeddpaoFMz-leu32SZNrzM9exvVpQuanw37H40yJMeURIpPY28_2nhtSnqsxPzh4T8ZezVg9-mxhOm3IKGfefzy9TgockKQneL8Oj2diXlLL9OIymjLq1ma7bTbUH6GB8TSjuEiw/s400/soc2.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">*Two seconds later* "Nope, sorry, your pay pass doesn't work"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
How about...I don't know...actually touching the card to the machine? Just a thought.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Situation B: The superstore</b><br />
<br />
Let's be honest: superstores are created to test the will of human beings. Sure, you get wholesale foods at decent prices. You can get a giant jar of olives for the price of two small ones, woot woot! And hey, superstore gas stations are the cheapest in town! But why create a seemingly amazing store, only to add constant obstacles to the mix?<br />
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For example, the parking:<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSmkKQCz2gjMRfPNZLDiu2CNCKyxtlddiqqv-Bf58n1NqMG5hzso1jv5qRbL5E0V-69kPsBf3qJ8jx3H8YJuMr2LNPgysHoJijt_ZBhNhnkNEejD9GVTKJDq5XM3auZpanObFysnmkPYVO/s1600/soc3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSmkKQCz2gjMRfPNZLDiu2CNCKyxtlddiqqv-Bf58n1NqMG5hzso1jv5qRbL5E0V-69kPsBf3qJ8jx3H8YJuMr2LNPgysHoJijt_ZBhNhnkNEejD9GVTKJDq5XM3auZpanObFysnmkPYVO/s400/soc3.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">FYI: My car is not in this picture</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I'm basically exhausted when I get to the store. The store is like a million square feet, so this is not good. Also, there is no sidewalk, and for a clutz like me that really doesn't bode very well.<br />
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<br />
There's also the shopping cart obstacle course:<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWNE6fgqj1K69fmyz5hiaHindplfCwXpgWrfBZAbsbp7FNlrFfMXoxxCpeIbs1MQtiSOd-Kjdg1_QIPB27hGzpYxaGTVX48oplt5KCTWN6eHF0U1e-m1GiwuRAOVhNdYr5bJJ41CD_Bju5/s1600/soc4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWNE6fgqj1K69fmyz5hiaHindplfCwXpgWrfBZAbsbp7FNlrFfMXoxxCpeIbs1MQtiSOd-Kjdg1_QIPB27hGzpYxaGTVX48oplt5KCTWN6eHF0U1e-m1GiwuRAOVhNdYr5bJJ41CD_Bju5/s400/soc4.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seriously, where ARE you people?! I just want my olives!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Look, we all know you are eating the free samples, but please, take your giant cart with you!<br />
<br />
<strong>Situation C:</strong> The doctor's office<br />
<br />
Last, but certainly not least, is the doctor's office. Any sort of medical establishment really. You kindly make an appointment so the doctor knows you're coming. You respectfully show up 15 minutes early as the receptionist requested. They lead you into a room and...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6WlSqrxX78j85Gzo8fSJTM940XHZaaK-Fa55FWE552S_2ODz0Fe24ekldwy9WPZdEfB4c94RgCRxUHF_heDZP98j556BUqoOheM6JXRiPW_8NGf1PeNw0AkMsk5qixRth9ug1FkVybA8p/s1600/soc5.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6WlSqrxX78j85Gzo8fSJTM940XHZaaK-Fa55FWE552S_2ODz0Fe24ekldwy9WPZdEfB4c94RgCRxUHF_heDZP98j556BUqoOheM6JXRiPW_8NGf1PeNw0AkMsk5qixRth9ug1FkVybA8p/s400/soc5.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I wish I'd brought a book...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFzNB6LJKNgrJ0QJRX9IOuhiSr_Pa4MP_dddl9PETbvd8OagpWmOyLvSUahEw_xY-U6c4uP5bUXISMqBPJiGhmaNgBh_s3ZhrvOy-kY3AOaGaPz0losXcjNaFhhu4BRGHRZnE5uBG0Hm1m/s1600/soc6.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFzNB6LJKNgrJ0QJRX9IOuhiSr_Pa4MP_dddl9PETbvd8OagpWmOyLvSUahEw_xY-U6c4uP5bUXISMqBPJiGhmaNgBh_s3ZhrvOy-kY3AOaGaPz0losXcjNaFhhu4BRGHRZnE5uBG0Hm1m/s400/soc6.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Am I going to be here for the rest of my life?!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhALGFMmJt_8t9pWzBfYhN9l7ek-5Wt05RFNyf1IMpFrtI-M2aDicJNs956e8hd4rmT6eUog94khcx5pKATIbTXHA6Z4uw7Qj40SCJ7SEwAfQvSRzLLRolaM0wk7-4CzA1lAe9FT9NzxpjH/s1600/soc7.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhALGFMmJt_8t9pWzBfYhN9l7ek-5Wt05RFNyf1IMpFrtI-M2aDicJNs956e8hd4rmT6eUog94khcx5pKATIbTXHA6Z4uw7Qj40SCJ7SEwAfQvSRzLLRolaM0wk7-4CzA1lAe9FT9NzxpjH/s400/soc7.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's like they know when you've lost the will.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I don't know...I guess I'm saying that we need to question these things sometimes, or else people become real a-holes. Either that, or the motto "if you can't beat them, join 'em" will have to become my spice of life!<br />
<br />Why is an Orange?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14031581638604813320noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5373070411999383213.post-38447736493538597002013-05-02T14:22:00.000-07:002013-05-02T14:22:13.474-07:00New posts coming soon!<i><a href="http://whyisanorange.blogspot.com/p/about-us-about-our-blog.html">Posted by K </a></i><br />
<br />
<br />
<i> </i><br />
Many apologies for the lack of posts recently, we are hoping to present you with some hilarious, Paint illustrated stories soon!<br />
<br />
Upcoming stories include M discussing the decay of modern society (at least that's how I describe it, she may say something "less heavy"), me finally adding up my bus hours (which I haven't tallied since 2012...yikes), and probably a Quincy the cat video (if I can figure out how to work this blogger thingy). The point being you will be glad you kept reading! Trust us! I promise! <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio1ZaIt2XUKPGfJh0fWICK-DBbT6HEht-X2ObkYNl3PpCRmGI-mk_GMYJ70h8cmWKhx8vBQtZM6LKGvEZuYqYgpwsUhDyJRgV-_MJuiTHQFGdMvlapRr3t5LXKTpDoZ55UFRP4h-cFQxI8/s1600/pinterest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio1ZaIt2XUKPGfJh0fWICK-DBbT6HEht-X2ObkYNl3PpCRmGI-mk_GMYJ70h8cmWKhx8vBQtZM6LKGvEZuYqYgpwsUhDyJRgV-_MJuiTHQFGdMvlapRr3t5LXKTpDoZ55UFRP4h-cFQxI8/s400/pinterest.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Who couldn't trust these faces?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<br />
While we're on the subject of random segways (okay, we weren't on that topic. but it's ironic. Deal with it), now that the weather has gotten hot again, I'd like to give a shout out to all my fellow allergy sufferers. While the rest of the city is all "WOOHOO! Shorts weather!" we're all walking around like "I want to go live in a bubble so my eyes stop itching for 2 seconds". I see those glares on the buses. They need to make Kleenex that has "ALLERGIES" written in big letters, so whenever I blow my nose people don't think I have the plague. <br />
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This morning after I checked the weather, I decided to see what the weekend has in store Allergy-wise and now I am extremely depressed:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN4_ZMMO0a31On01BVuOUi1rizUkSimPE6vyg4mt-rx7wZM93GQuTrLZJHVLTTE5KlFkAX9BoLRQil2fntTnRTdo4tFvthc70AQOgyw239q_CvBd-TLf7XNa6J82zlcDIQJ8E9ukjeZ5Bi/s1600/pollen.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="508" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN4_ZMMO0a31On01BVuOUi1rizUkSimPE6vyg4mt-rx7wZM93GQuTrLZJHVLTTE5KlFkAX9BoLRQil2fntTnRTdo4tFvthc70AQOgyw239q_CvBd-TLf7XNa6J82zlcDIQJ8E9ukjeZ5Bi/s640/pollen.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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One of my worst allergies (among many) is Birch. I guess they don't call Canada "land of the silver birch" for nothing. It's hard to take in the majesty of the might birch when you can't stop sneezing. Good times.<br />
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Anywho, maybe buy your favorite allergy sufferer an iced-cap or something. <br />
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Happy Thursday!Why is an Orange?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14031581638604813320noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5373070411999383213.post-43935736929422490092013-03-31T12:57:00.000-07:002013-03-31T12:57:16.229-07:00From Why is an Orange?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjerkTpbqbGSJDZP-gmI3az55jfEIcPcUNekzG-pf1A3JCygW41Rc5rFWezXXyzXugpk0HBhxIvw6Fzlo7shbNCNEDaUjZkyt3nSykWswrHVlPHggMTBaARBRU_nHZsoN3QSW0-3hKWeKxy/s1600/ferdy1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="451" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjerkTpbqbGSJDZP-gmI3az55jfEIcPcUNekzG-pf1A3JCygW41Rc5rFWezXXyzXugpk0HBhxIvw6Fzlo7shbNCNEDaUjZkyt3nSykWswrHVlPHggMTBaARBRU_nHZsoN3QSW0-3hKWeKxy/s640/ferdy1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Credit for Ferdy's bunny costume goes to our fabulous mother, who had the patience, imagination and sewing skills to create it! And also probably a touch of crazy, much like her daughters :)Why is an Orange?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14031581638604813320noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5373070411999383213.post-2237456633040165452013-03-08T16:03:00.000-08:002013-03-08T16:33:05.612-08:00Scary Story<i><a href="http://whyisanorange.blogspot.com/p/about-us-about-our-blog.html">Posted by K </a></i><br />
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Prepare yourselves for a horror story the likes you've never seen!<br />
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Okay, it's more accurate to say: a horror story the likes you've never seen drawn! In Paint! That actually happened! To us!<br />
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The scene: M's House: Night.<br />
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It started as an innocent sleepover, with the goal of catching up on the latest episodes of the tv show <i>New Girl</i>. You know, the one with Zooey Deschanel. It's pretty hilarious. Not <i>Modern Family</i> hilarious, but it beats <i>Two Broke Girls</i> pretty hard. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeaIWbPSpGCjiOXviSnwMigiZQIOid1TCyMO1ZQjf9dxOrhRsN30FsQb7pC7Wy7-om9Gubz-upoBxqX7kgz89kK5bUcvjCN4Sk2X35Zan1842X6J5lzNsbftDkvYPv0T1OFaJGIMdfN91S/s1600/alarm1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeaIWbPSpGCjiOXviSnwMigiZQIOid1TCyMO1ZQjf9dxOrhRsN30FsQb7pC7Wy7-om9Gubz-upoBxqX7kgz89kK5bUcvjCN4Sk2X35Zan1842X6J5lzNsbftDkvYPv0T1OFaJGIMdfN91S/s1600/alarm1.jpg" /></a></div>
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It was about 9pm, and we were taking a break before switching to a Disney movie. I hear you judging us, and I don't care.<br />
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I took a bathroom break, and while walking by the upstairs I heard a really bizarre noise.<br />
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It's really hard to describe, it started pretty faint, but it was kind of like a mix of jingle bells, someone laughing and a baby crying. The Jingle-Laugh-Baby Cry was on a loop every 10 seconds or so. I sort of stood there for a minute trying to figure out if it was coming from outside (NO) or from the neighbor's house (NO). And as I stood there it started to get louder. M (from the couch) saw the weird look on my face and came over: <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVIS-GWXLwFKHh9eVkwwRUhirEI_kXRVChsKGysJxk_6mR6GwmfS8QHgOSRF0wtREKDQjQXWdWxr_M6jX_ghS2BJjU2kdLNSeeWaYKdf7xZi1eqswdOWWNv5t2OCSW3eL53p7eKKV74vD-/s1600/alarm2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVIS-GWXLwFKHh9eVkwwRUhirEI_kXRVChsKGysJxk_6mR6GwmfS8QHgOSRF0wtREKDQjQXWdWxr_M6jX_ghS2BJjU2kdLNSeeWaYKdf7xZi1eqswdOWWNv5t2OCSW3eL53p7eKKV74vD-/s1600/alarm2.jpg" /></a></div>
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K: "Do you have any Christmas decorations up there?"<br />
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M: "No, we don't have any noise-making ones anyway".<br />
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Cue awkward pause while we both tried to think logically what it could be.....then:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOTIKfdwZ00rMqV9VgrWG4HsXh24CwkGk4GmC30pBJqLq5xyLFfCTgGwTPxu0k4vQ_jLpzTo2IpAzEocmRvBvytAzcJ2yH1eLhcC4CURQl9Pc1oLjv2gH4gD8jBurdtaXysjBuEqvzIpgW/s1600/alarm3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOTIKfdwZ00rMqV9VgrWG4HsXh24CwkGk4GmC30pBJqLq5xyLFfCTgGwTPxu0k4vQ_jLpzTo2IpAzEocmRvBvytAzcJ2yH1eLhcC4CURQl9Pc1oLjv2gH4gD8jBurdtaXysjBuEqvzIpgW/s1600/alarm3.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, there was screaming. No, it was not dignified.</td></tr>
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At this point you may be thinking that we are both giant babies. But you have to believe me, the sound was super disturbing. I spent almost 3 hours trying to upload the sound to this blog last Saturday, just to prove it. Alas, my arch-enemy (technology) won again. Note to Blogger: ADD A SOUND FUNCTION!!!!<br />
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I can't really explain why we thought someone was in the house, I mean, we'd been sitting there for over 2 hours. We'd both been upstairs at different points. Pretty sure we would have noticed some creepy person hanging out. I can only say that I thought it was some sort of serial killer trying to play mental games with us. On a completely unrelated note, I watch much too much <i>Criminal Minds. </i><br />
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After our movie-esque screams I ran to the kitchen and grabbed a big
knife and M ran to the living room and grabbed her cell phone. We
rendezvous'd on the couch facing the stairs. I think we were pretty freaking organized considering there was no "serial killer" plan in place*<br />
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*Note to everyone: you should probably put a "serial killer" plan on paper. Like a fire escape plan. You know, just in cases.<br />
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What followed were 2 phone calls: a frantic one to M's husband to come home IMMEDIATELY. The second one was him calling back to check the actual threat level. I only heard one side of the convo as I was manning the knife, but I imagine it went something like this:<br />
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A (M's husband): Hi again. I just wanted to check, is this something that can be really easily explained?<br />
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M: NO, it's like nothing I've ever heard!<br />
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A (M's husband): It couldn't be something like, I don't know, the alarm clock?<br />
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M: The alarm doesn't make that sound!!! Wait. Doesn't it have a 'jungle noise' setting? Hmmm. Stay on the line while we take the knife and go check."<br />
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We climbed the stairs together brandishing the knife in front of us, opened the bedroom door, and yes, it was the stupid alarm clock. I ask you, what company is sadistic enough to think people would EVER want to wake up to that?!<br />
They just made my 'Revenge' list. And that is not a place you want to be. Once I have the time (and some money) I will be getting even with every single person/corporation on that list. A storm is coming.<br />
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Silver-lining: If it really had been a serial killer, we would have confused the living daylights out of him. He would have been all "I'll play this creepy noise, then they'll come upstairs and I'll grab them! BwaHaHA!"<br />
But instead he would have heard some screaming and then come downstairs to find us armed and cell-phoned! It may have just been a knife, but we were both Chief Scouts. We are highly trained in the art of knife and ax wielding. Also, we are highly trained in building toilets in the woods. But I digress.<br />
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After it was all over we sort of laughed (well, nervous giggle is more accurate), and watched our Disney. But I think I speak for both of us when I say the emotional scars will last much longer. And now I associate <i>New Girl</i> with serial killers. Thank you alarm company.<br />
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Side-note: Where was Darcy the cat during all this? In the basement. Sleeping. Yeah, best attack cat ever.<br />
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<br />Why is an Orange?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14031581638604813320noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5373070411999383213.post-77678719757102407472013-02-02T07:37:00.000-08:002013-02-02T07:37:00.367-08:00Common Bus Problems #1 - K shares her solutions...you lucky people you.I consider myself somewhat of a bus expert. Not by choice, but necessity, I have been a regular rider of OC Transpo for around 10 years. Wow that's sad. I've been a hard core rider for a little over 2 years, and (if you look to the left) I've clocked some serious bus hours. <br />
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I've decided to share some of my tips to deal with the ridiculousness that is city bus transportation. While everyone has their own mentally crushing experiences, there are some common problems that we all face. I going to make this a weekly special, so tune in next week for another BUS TIP!<br />
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P.S. - As a sidenote, I haven't updated the bus hours because I have to add up the time for the rest of 2012, but it should be coming soon. I have a feeling it will be a disgustingly big number!<br />
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P.P.S - I know I've said I'll do weekly specials before, and I let you down. Let's be realistic and say this will be a bi-weekly special.<br />
Wait, does by-weekly mean twice a week, or every 2 weeks? Hmm, I think I mean bi-monthly. Yes, we're going with that. Tune in 2 weeks from now for another BUS TIP!<br />
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Without further ado, I present our first tip! <br />
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Mystery Bus</h3>
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I've had a long day, I just want to go home. I've been standing at the station for what feels like forever, and it's freezing out. Anyone who has waited for a bus at a major station has learned (probably the hard way, like me) that you have to watch EVERY SINGLE BUS that goes by on the off chance it's yours. One momentary lapse and your done. I remember one incident where I was distracted by some 15 year old boy full-on dancing at the stop like it was a disco. I looked up just in time to see my bus blow past me. That little dance break cost me another 30 minutes in the cold! But I digress.<br />
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The problem I wanted to talk about is when the bus pulls up, but doesn't display a number. What are you supposed to do? Go up and ask (potentially missing your own bus in the process)? Wait and hope it isn't?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtnZVzpdQC-ZpnUyUL4qZOOfXM1feThjpdI9S4uAoMG4-VMOTSciu-wHy6LREfv_JQGNmsV-UFT1nKwT-iUBCG9Jfdutj6wVcBn5eoXv5WJC0jdiE2RrJ5SeVL-c5YuoIuRxBZcnkg50CO/s1600/busproblem1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtnZVzpdQC-ZpnUyUL4qZOOfXM1feThjpdI9S4uAoMG4-VMOTSciu-wHy6LREfv_JQGNmsV-UFT1nKwT-iUBCG9Jfdutj6wVcBn5eoXv5WJC0jdiE2RrJ5SeVL-c5YuoIuRxBZcnkg50CO/s1600/busproblem1.jpg" /></a></div>
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It's super sucky.<br />
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K's Solution: </h4>
I've developed a (super creepy) method of recognizing other people who are on my bus every day. I keep an eye on the buses going by, while watching everyone approach the Mystery bus. If someone I recognize gets on I make a run for it, if not, I'm still in position to observe all the other buses for my number.<br />
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You might be uncomfortable doing this, but let's face it, you probably spend a lot of time on the bus with these people, why pretend you don't make up nicknames in your head. You don't? Okay judgy, maybe it's just me. Here are a few examples to get you started:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAPnxS_LEs5OX69WKM3uEN5_DCPspzV1E7DlLRigiguB9oS22xR-QakUdy7PfUqDM6YwpZCqAjZLY5NDGn0bNnastPuY6AmN9j1WP6cPvjRoDtKzCr-0H7IkFfZcQ44fQnQ4Qhh1OTxTj6/s1600/smiley+lady.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAPnxS_LEs5OX69WKM3uEN5_DCPspzV1E7DlLRigiguB9oS22xR-QakUdy7PfUqDM6YwpZCqAjZLY5NDGn0bNnastPuY6AmN9j1WP6cPvjRoDtKzCr-0H7IkFfZcQ44fQnQ4Qhh1OTxTj6/s1600/smiley+lady.jpg" /></a></div>
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Smiley Lady: She used to take the bus with me in the mornings at 6:30 am (before I switched to the 6am bus, that's right, 6am). Rain or shine or snowpocalypse, she always boards the bus smiling.<br />
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Art Student: I recognize this kid by the poster holder that he always carries. Look for easy to spot items like a trombone case or a particularly fascinating hat. Pretty sure my magic winter hat has helped a few people board the correct bus. You're welcome peeps.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzwZGOs4WdFAqnCRiTmywHLGitpKuUlqDSW3v6vlDAg_8XKI_2wdrtgH0R9EUBZYOMUSY7sZvZm-TIF3vWMje9jqUd6ym4A2_kQ4WtWzsqFGjaH5Ue3TvsGpmvsY1BQnf5xfjzBQip0BB9/s1600/cape+man.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzwZGOs4WdFAqnCRiTmywHLGitpKuUlqDSW3v6vlDAg_8XKI_2wdrtgH0R9EUBZYOMUSY7sZvZm-TIF3vWMje9jqUd6ym4A2_kQ4WtWzsqFGjaH5Ue3TvsGpmvsY1BQnf5xfjzBQip0BB9/s1600/cape+man.jpg" /></a></div>
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Cape Man: I'm not making this up. There is a guy who wears a cape and takes OC Transpo. He is awesome. And really easy to spot if you know he frequents your neighborhood.<br />
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This has been 'Bus Tips with K'. Signing off; may your face stay unfrozen and your bus waits be short.<br /><br />
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<br />Why is an Orange?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14031581638604813320noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5373070411999383213.post-2297920772896901162013-01-19T15:59:00.001-08:002013-01-19T16:00:30.225-08:00Ain't she unglamo-rays<em>Posted by M</em><br />
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I have recently come to believe that I may secretly be the She-Hulk. For those of you who don't know, She-Hulk, a.k.a. Jennifer Walters, is the crime-fighting cousin of the angry green hulk. If you are currently yelling, "NERD ALERT" at your computer screen, calm down, I only just wiki'd this info. Jeez.<br />
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Anyway, when Jennifer Walters gets stressed and angry, she turns into a nasty green giant (and not of the vegetable variety) and basically kicks ass. I'm not suggesting that I've been fighting hard crime in my spare time, mostly because my fights have all been with inanimate objects. But I am seriously concerned that I may have the inner hulk rage inside of me.<br />
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Exhibit A:<br />
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After cooking up a delicious cinnamon bun cake, I had to wait what felt like FOREVER to put it in a tupperware container. Cake takes way too long to cool down, just saying. So finally, after hours of waiting, I snatched a knife, cut' er up, and grabbed my favourite spatula to move the cake. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQIXErfMZi8cR9_PA1Qp2FqbxTDKEOLnMnBeQvP7kkH6GQtcDyLb2sl1l0h7ll29RnuT_c-gr75PbBl3xE-pk2NpegMjDXjAp4QXEy0I_IivCREjh0hp_AJllMfxaDHKWMsD2v7CWtmccp/s1600/hulk1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQIXErfMZi8cR9_PA1Qp2FqbxTDKEOLnMnBeQvP7kkH6GQtcDyLb2sl1l0h7ll29RnuT_c-gr75PbBl3xE-pk2NpegMjDXjAp4QXEy0I_IivCREjh0hp_AJllMfxaDHKWMsD2v7CWtmccp/s320/hulk1.png" width="286" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh cinnamon cake, you are finally ready.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpG2gLEik5swdJHheSRsk3_7zv3V-6CdeGdo9FEMNiXPgmdAiuvGY08vTZiKv443zuI7zek4tgMyVeyrxLokxC2_Uero1098rgB-MZ_pyOIwMxH9mgCyV5lHGzzDYoz8KrNNQl7ld4hBDq/s1600/hulk2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpG2gLEik5swdJHheSRsk3_7zv3V-6CdeGdo9FEMNiXPgmdAiuvGY08vTZiKv443zuI7zek4tgMyVeyrxLokxC2_Uero1098rgB-MZ_pyOIwMxH9mgCyV5lHGzzDYoz8KrNNQl7ld4hBDq/s320/hulk2.png" width="287" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Are you kidding me right now?!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhahNM_7p_iSsEtGvJoui6W7MhUfFHqRg_VO5hfxnEcTCuy65VBKAvhttSiDh3TYW2g1hMqesNCWWYTHz4Q2O64St118HeTpAIWgamUB3xG7F5pWdNZYDnOFI02iWN82LhIX9mJ7I0RpCLq/s1600/hulk3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhahNM_7p_iSsEtGvJoui6W7MhUfFHqRg_VO5hfxnEcTCuy65VBKAvhttSiDh3TYW2g1hMqesNCWWYTHz4Q2O64St118HeTpAIWgamUB3xG7F5pWdNZYDnOFI02iWN82LhIX9mJ7I0RpCLq/s320/hulk3.png" width="289" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">M-Hulk SMASH!!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Exhibit B:<br />
<br />
One morning this week, after sleeping in late, I decided to wear a shirt that I got for Christmas for the first time. It is polka-dotty and awesome. It was, however, stupid wrinkled. After working out the wrinkles I discovered I had all of five minutes to get the rest of myself together. I ran for the bathroom, put in my contacts, and decided I'd do a simple up-do in my hair.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpYfku1lb0TAtoxE0CIDyASoJGVdIrvNoxDIhhIEcYFnVsHvtUE6TBCxP_GhxefSoO-5an56GgyqVOZf9qwsohrlNd_ojtzM_arTAPSufHBUb0_V1LWK3WpTOsH0w6bhmo3ZmzWoxpjY51/s1600/hulk4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpYfku1lb0TAtoxE0CIDyASoJGVdIrvNoxDIhhIEcYFnVsHvtUE6TBCxP_GhxefSoO-5an56GgyqVOZf9qwsohrlNd_ojtzM_arTAPSufHBUb0_V1LWK3WpTOsH0w6bhmo3ZmzWoxpjY51/s320/hulk4.png" width="211" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brushy brushy</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPKBRVOL3F_kiP_cNQOoQZZWFC937z92qV2n-LVzvK8jdIdFcJOwz2Q_8a60UEI3tAhh-hxPewnqLbWvrNIArw1Be36bLjycyS6kGBKZrmkGXXLuJYx7x3GhqHrSQQSjgBBblsWnyks43d/s1600/hulk5.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPKBRVOL3F_kiP_cNQOoQZZWFC937z92qV2n-LVzvK8jdIdFcJOwz2Q_8a60UEI3tAhh-hxPewnqLbWvrNIArw1Be36bLjycyS6kGBKZrmkGXXLuJYx7x3GhqHrSQQSjgBBblsWnyks43d/s320/hulk5.png" width="210" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>CRACK!</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHjpuN09EIz840nmuQDIa4kjZJs99kHVruTWnO4dp_mhG-UznH68flhF15-g35p7kfPcswYGL8PbcdOhz-p7tIpHWm63qlcLvfMA-bOACk3rST0FG0ZpA-egBJWAUPl5ZdQSwJdlcZHBRj/s1600/hulk6.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHjpuN09EIz840nmuQDIa4kjZJs99kHVruTWnO4dp_mhG-UznH68flhF15-g35p7kfPcswYGL8PbcdOhz-p7tIpHWm63qlcLvfMA-bOACk3rST0FG0ZpA-egBJWAUPl5ZdQSwJdlcZHBRj/s320/hulk6.png" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With half the brush stuck in my hair, I angrily gave fists of death to the sky.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
In conclusion, I have decided that I either have extreme strength (which, judging by my inability to lift a ten pound weight above my head, is not the case), or I'm a superhero in disguise. Maybe I should call up Stan Lee? <i>Avengers 2</i> here I come!!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Why is an Orange?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14031581638604813320noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5373070411999383213.post-10620508165547170542013-01-07T18:46:00.000-08:002013-01-07T18:46:12.326-08:00Public Service Announcement : Apparently Q-tips are EVIL<i><a href="http://whyisanorange.blogspot.com/p/about-us-about-our-blog.html">Posted by K </a></i><br />
<br />
<br />
I spent the last week lying in bed feeling super gross, in that really sucky not-asleep-not-awake fog where you're really out of it, but you feel too awful to sleep. Not the best start to 2013, but as I got the sore throat that precluded the sickness in 2012 I'm blaming it on that year.<br />
<br />
I figured I had the flu, but after 5 days I seemed to be getting worse, not better. This was when M visited me to convince me to go to the doctor's.<br />
<br />
I hate going to the walk-in clinic.<br />
<br />
I always have to wait hours to get in, and 3 out of 4 visits the doctor's like "Yup, you have a virus.", and I'm like "Soo, do you have any antibiotics I could take?", and they're like "Tylenol." Thanks for that. Totally worth it.<br />
<br />
Anyway, the conversation went a little like this: <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhxMj4Ah1hBpUcueDJE5Ktyhice9k3NFP-Y52XjHhU_1KeckU-xu5RcBx_7UJ6Hc1D-fZUy7lgAQvgrr8kK_kzne7Ag0AaFrnjiqSIZEWqsJ-nUGzP6m2h1oTU0KyJrljaRSoOo_DxmM9a/s1600/q-tip2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhxMj4Ah1hBpUcueDJE5Ktyhice9k3NFP-Y52XjHhU_1KeckU-xu5RcBx_7UJ6Hc1D-fZUy7lgAQvgrr8kK_kzne7Ag0AaFrnjiqSIZEWqsJ-nUGzP6m2h1oTU0KyJrljaRSoOo_DxmM9a/s1600/q-tip2.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
The next day we went to the clinic.<br />
<br />
After waiting 3 hours (during which time I'm pretty sure M was exposed to every version of the cold/flu hanging out in Ottawa this winter) we finally got in. And it turns out I have a severe ear infection. Didn't see that one coming. The doctor asked "Do you use q-tips?", and I was like "yes....", and she said "No more Q-tips! You put them too far into your ear and then you get an infection! Only use Q-tips outside your ear, for fun."<br />
<i> </i><br />
(I kind of let the "for fun" advice slide as I was shocked about the infection part).<br />
<br />
Anywho, she was definitely right since now I can't hear out of my left ear. I'm on medication though, so here's hoping that little chestnut will clear up soon.<br />
<i> </i><br />
So, I've decided to spread the word, from my (slightly muffled) sick bed. Q-tips are bad.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKEa3YKc5qTFQJffGPqW_aq-CRNN7OUs0sSePZyZgBymeKdKJkdDOD5lsoPxwNDr0WmkDBsouUyTQIySdKv5JJtvkCgdU9Lbh1uhIrhXFVEZ3GfILbyONwHWvVZ2OVuhyphenhyphenPjbGGyw836bxk/s1600/q-tip.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKEa3YKc5qTFQJffGPqW_aq-CRNN7OUs0sSePZyZgBymeKdKJkdDOD5lsoPxwNDr0WmkDBsouUyTQIySdKv5JJtvkCgdU9Lbh1uhIrhXFVEZ3GfILbyONwHWvVZ2OVuhyphenhyphenPjbGGyw836bxk/s1600/q-tip.jpg" /></a></div>
<i> </i><br />
<i> </i><br />
<i> </i><br />
<i> </i><br />
<i> </i><br />
<i> </i><br />
<i> </i><br />
Unless you're using them for fun.Why is an Orange?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14031581638604813320noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5373070411999383213.post-55338101200832246612012-12-23T17:16:00.000-08:002012-12-23T17:16:30.013-08:00Quincy the Cat: Mountain ClimberApparently life has been a little boring for Quincy the cat lately. The toy mouse chasing and escaping into the garage has lost it's charm.<br />
<br />
At least that's what I assume, since he's taken up a new hobby; mountain climbing.<br />
<br />
Of course, being an indoor cat, his access to real mountains is kind of limited. So he has settled for using his imagination and various high things.<br />
<br />
<h3>
1 week ago:</h3>
<br />
I woke up to a weird noise. Already suspicious, I turned on my beside light to find this scene:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRv4Px_MHO4OX9VkUL5p3MjNN2T5VXqjMGhu1q9zz_DjMdYPLUY3PW1g4spME5WYIKX2V4Y1C0qw4IKl6JyOirQ7Ir9_q2yfHENYppDyYpGj2PbvLh8Z-9hQJ91pV_4XQ51R0fvlDxwh19/s1600/mountain+climber1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRv4Px_MHO4OX9VkUL5p3MjNN2T5VXqjMGhu1q9zz_DjMdYPLUY3PW1g4spME5WYIKX2V4Y1C0qw4IKl6JyOirQ7Ir9_q2yfHENYppDyYpGj2PbvLh8Z-9hQJ91pV_4XQ51R0fvlDxwh19/s1600/mountain+climber1.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
He was actually trying to jump on top of a 6 foot book shelf. I said "think about what you're doing, Quincy." But he just stared at me while balancing on the desk. I think he knew he'd bit off more than he could chew though, since he stood there for 3 minutes until I got up and helped him down.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<h3>
3 days ago:</h3>
<br />
I woke up at 1 am to find Quincy balancing on my hips and looking about as pleased as if he'd climbed Everest. Which I find really insulting. My hips are not that big, Quincy.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigQv6OWhyphenhyphen0ZDFKmS3kJLu6fSJb16tLmd4Z-2N_spaxRZ1vinCDLCz0l02NZiQbEn9Fk5c31q7VzjI9ZjeeH0lgGW2_vliJdUICRi0fqF5fcgW3Ir2KmvD8LU38fZTf-eGGWg0VqWx4VXa0/s1600/mountain2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigQv6OWhyphenhyphen0ZDFKmS3kJLu6fSJb16tLmd4Z-2N_spaxRZ1vinCDLCz0l02NZiQbEn9Fk5c31q7VzjI9ZjeeH0lgGW2_vliJdUICRi0fqF5fcgW3Ir2KmvD8LU38fZTf-eGGWg0VqWx4VXa0/s1600/mountain2.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<h3>
Last night:</h3>
<h3>
<br /></h3>
We were watching "Home Alone 2" to get in the Christmas spirit. Quincy was wandering around, but he wasn't getting into too much trouble so I wasn't paying attention. I guess that was my mistake.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMO8cOyFO4uWkthxhVR6KaLUhwzH5VtGRpeR-Lwa5q3kwA4eDg5guXcg0HO-RoC1FBBBzItLncfC0YXlRzAFV9C13HbjdAxBd7DfZmmZIbwTFIiZboYT7lrL25TbwoKmte2aMwa3Ktw69q/s1600/mountain3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMO8cOyFO4uWkthxhVR6KaLUhwzH5VtGRpeR-Lwa5q3kwA4eDg5guXcg0HO-RoC1FBBBzItLncfC0YXlRzAFV9C13HbjdAxBd7DfZmmZIbwTFIiZboYT7lrL25TbwoKmte2aMwa3Ktw69q/s1600/mountain3.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<h3>
1 minute later:</h3>
<h3>
<br /></h3>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCqS-_trkgx97ujzx-DYsvZFJAx0WnC9JQ7eR3EilOjOyCHBOSwO1VUiVGFwOy2jwDRqGMbyODIdQ6rSteiVVbv11VdojjS7rBoMHoUxn5bhkDVuSCwmsh7qA2PiWvx8kg9ziId8SA-SqS/s1600/mountain4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCqS-_trkgx97ujzx-DYsvZFJAx0WnC9JQ7eR3EilOjOyCHBOSwO1VUiVGFwOy2jwDRqGMbyODIdQ6rSteiVVbv11VdojjS7rBoMHoUxn5bhkDVuSCwmsh7qA2PiWvx8kg9ziId8SA-SqS/s1600/mountain4.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Sigh. I tried threatening to take away his Christmas present (It's a cat tent I found at the Dollar Store), but he doesn't seem to care. He will once he plays in it though. It's totally awesome.<br />
<br />Why is an Orange?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14031581638604813320noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5373070411999383213.post-90431603776050327732012-12-03T06:39:00.000-08:002012-12-03T06:39:18.246-08:00Baggy Pants : Crafty Conspiracy or Poorly Designed Fashion Choice?<i><a href="http://whyisanorange.blogspot.com/p/about-us-about-our-blog.html">Posted by K </a></i><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<br />
<br />
I'm starting to wonder if the "baggy pants" fashion was created by really clever people in law enforcement. Seriously, in the last 5 episodes of <i>COPS</i> I've seen, there has been at least one guy attempting to flee arrest only to get tripped up by his pants.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
And then they have the added fun of being handcuffed with their colourful boxers on display. Pretty freaking embarrassing. Makes me wonder why they agreed to have their face shown on tv. One of life's little mysteries I guess.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
These random thoughts are brought to you by the guy in front of me at the bus station who made a run for the 95 only to have his pants take a bit of a dive. Logging that in the "images to be scrubbed from my brain" category.<br />
<br />
<br />
I don't really feel like drawing this image right now (it was traumatizing enough in person), so instead, here is a drawing of Kirby using only computer symbols: <br />
<br />
< ( ' ' )><br />
<br />
Someone showed me that in high school, and I was like "my mind is blown!!". That was back in the days before we had the wide range of emoticons available today. When you instant messaged someone with a sarcastic comment you had to write "(sarcasm)" after it to make sure they didn't take you seriously. I had more misunderstandings over such things than I care to mention.<br />
<br />
<br />
p. s.<br />
<br />@-->-- It's a rose!!</div>
Why is an Orange?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14031581638604813320noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5373070411999383213.post-2780696603885787302012-11-26T11:45:00.003-08:002012-11-26T11:45:57.297-08:00Tales from the doctor's office<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">Posted by <i>M</i></span><br />
<i><span style="color: #6fa8dc;"></span></i><br />
This post could also be entitled, "How not to raise your child: A judgemental guide from a highly irritated non-parent."<br />
<br />
Recently I was waiting for my husband at a doctor's office. Medical establishments are not known to be the most enjoyable, doolally of places, but for the most part the only battle is against people who insist on:<br />
<br />
a) Sharing their illness with the room.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGFIHzG8-oDWcMYEWKHTGauRrtAAjgpqk3mDEOgrBzxbWMhO7C6n6b-y_wW-XtqZpYroMOVFcPecgD4a1butrapY_o6cHKSMmrpc6JSwXoADvRl3Hct_w1w_5Y45QLE_ArBaO75SQlgac5/s1600/Dr1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="385" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGFIHzG8-oDWcMYEWKHTGauRrtAAjgpqk3mDEOgrBzxbWMhO7C6n6b-y_wW-XtqZpYroMOVFcPecgD4a1butrapY_o6cHKSMmrpc6JSwXoADvRl3Hct_w1w_5Y45QLE_ArBaO75SQlgac5/s640/Dr1.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm just here for a check up!! >:l</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
b) Sitting right next to you when the room is empty.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnSUVHqjc10pvjO1Z4gX52lhplQsDX2lxay2uDPTXKdqbWH7qOfUcv-Ox96v5KQmKQst2cjt6Yz1gKB4moxpRsDjhS-7B0RD6-pi5LLRQcqqNmoLc4Y1goGsFzTyohTyhGhuYx6UKbQT_j/s1600/Dr2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnSUVHqjc10pvjO1Z4gX52lhplQsDX2lxay2uDPTXKdqbWH7qOfUcv-Ox96v5KQmKQst2cjt6Yz1gKB4moxpRsDjhS-7B0RD6-pi5LLRQcqqNmoLc4Y1goGsFzTyohTyhGhuYx6UKbQT_j/s640/Dr2.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Do you not get enough social interaction or something?! Yeesh.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Anyway, when I entered the office, I was actually pleasantly surprised by the quietness and seemingly unsickness of all who were there. It's an Urgent Care Centre (like a mini-hospital), so I was truly relieved when I didn't see anyone with gushing wounds or looking like they were going to need a vomit bag any second. <br />
<br />
My husband was eventually called in, and I sat pleasantly scrolling through Pinterest on my phone. About a minute passed, and a lady entered the room with her small child of about 3. I smiled pleasantly at her and the child, as that is the "proper" thing to do when you see a well-behaved child. I even found it kind of cute when the girl proceeded to play with a Disney Princess microphone, happily singing away.<br />
<br />
And then it happened. I don't know if it was the chocolate her mother gave her (a Halloween-sized Aero Bar), or her trip to the bathroom (pre-empted by a loud "I HAVE TO POO MOMMY"), but whatever it was, it was like the child was taken over by some horrible, loud and obnoxious being. She was, in essence, the <i>Rubrecht</i> child.<br />
<br />
Now, if you don't know who Rubrecht is, you need to watch the classic Steve Martin/ Michael Caine movie, <em>Dirty Rotten Scoundrels </em>(check it out here:<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eF8QAeQm3ZM" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eF8QAeQm3ZM</a> ). Suffice it to say, Rubrecht is a character depicted by Martin who is a totally disobeying, loud, socially unacceptable child who has to eat with a cork on his fork. The cork on the fork is unimportant to this story, but makes me laugh EVERY time. <br />
<br />
So the next HOUR went a lot like this:<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZRbQLNxjx8NDsVI2TEWQARERas7Bdlf_0TE8brOSkx6BN7K50pYyIW-cYfAORO5jlGDLPC9yUDb_t4sS3XjDUhan4poD73Z21-5zKJ46-jtL3Z_hKOeePp6pmnD3ADAawtQKnvygaHefb/s1600/Dr3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="490" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZRbQLNxjx8NDsVI2TEWQARERas7Bdlf_0TE8brOSkx6BN7K50pYyIW-cYfAORO5jlGDLPC9yUDb_t4sS3XjDUhan4poD73Z21-5zKJ46-jtL3Z_hKOeePp6pmnD3ADAawtQKnvygaHefb/s640/Dr3.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm not being mean, the kid's hair really did look like that. She fell off a chair and rubbed her staticky toy all over her head.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip2VeMisdeh9kR9nuRy-BPavzZaGQeSjBxihrgPRAGMpnVsaTx8g6KeCwE_Sj_JIejRTPnaqofixeUQBI6u8NnQOwq6FMTyzKyXuXFb9J0xh3K0IkVZ2Z_igMrb1gFkYTRGHQQDEIGPn4G/s1600/Dr4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="448" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip2VeMisdeh9kR9nuRy-BPavzZaGQeSjBxihrgPRAGMpnVsaTx8g6KeCwE_Sj_JIejRTPnaqofixeUQBI6u8NnQOwq6FMTyzKyXuXFb9J0xh3K0IkVZ2Z_igMrb1gFkYTRGHQQDEIGPn4G/s640/Dr4.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Imagine Fay Wray from King Kong seeing the gorilla for the first time and letting out a blood curdling scream. This was worse.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSgSSuoXfS_zC5iQjPRR80mlvUOKRsq5bmOeP4ToUphVtQdoiYP6Pbo2w2ktZn5Q9saKpxNX5NHL0PiFP-NNDE9HgdEKwzay1UPnP0EHxry1XVDpicTDL7JYgYbppN2hRYYAdFnb_3ZEjB/s1600/Dr.5.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="470" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSgSSuoXfS_zC5iQjPRR80mlvUOKRsq5bmOeP4ToUphVtQdoiYP6Pbo2w2ktZn5Q9saKpxNX5NHL0PiFP-NNDE9HgdEKwzay1UPnP0EHxry1XVDpicTDL7JYgYbppN2hRYYAdFnb_3ZEjB/s640/Dr.5.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeN4oZ9PSbSYJ7akknyl1U81gFMdh-XdBYYptnoKD2Ai6yPa9A30y1h237FFUTMk1EyVlZ3B9aO_71M6z-xxwzwPJ7buXGizQEgMtoY42C3O-rZzeQUpaPrHTVi5xtMzt06Xlw7cX9aJtb/s1600/Dr6.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeN4oZ9PSbSYJ7akknyl1U81gFMdh-XdBYYptnoKD2Ai6yPa9A30y1h237FFUTMk1EyVlZ3B9aO_71M6z-xxwzwPJ7buXGizQEgMtoY42C3O-rZzeQUpaPrHTVi5xtMzt06Xlw7cX9aJtb/s640/Dr6.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yep, that's spit. She spit on her mom's shoes. </td></tr>
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It's times like these when one really starts to debate the whole having children things. Let's just say my enthusiasm was greatly depleated/ pushed off. <br />
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Eventually (and by this I mean an HOUR later), the mother moved herself and her child to new seats, saying, "Let's give these people a break for awhile". To which I let out a silent expletive of relief.<br />
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Can all the bad parents of the world unite and decide to live somewhere isolated...like the Falkland Islands? Food for thought people, food for thought.<br />
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<br />Why is an Orange?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14031581638604813320noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5373070411999383213.post-1384332292995284052012-11-14T07:26:00.000-08:002012-11-14T07:26:46.824-08:00Voting closedSo the blogger polling got totally screwed up, and didn't really work for the majority of the week. But if we go by the final tally, I totally win:<br />
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<li>Yes, K is correct, they could totally be twins! Total: 7 (70%)</li>
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<div class="resultText" title="Yes, K is correct, they could totally be twins!">
<div title="No, no they don't. Stick to Paint, K.">
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<li>No, no they don't. Stick to Paint, K. Total: 1 (10%)</li>
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<div title="I have no opinion, but I like clicking buttons. Woohoo!">
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<li>I have no opinion, but I like clicking buttons. Woohoo! Total: 2 (20%)</li>
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It's pretty hard to say whether or not this is in any way accurate, but 7 to 1 is a pretty clear victory...for me.<br />
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This is the time when I am humble in victory, accepting it with grace and modesty, and refraining from "rubbing it in" or gloating needlessly.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvKoZU1MWBvYY1aa3AyeGgE8fkZ2_6yzT_dlod3AOWXjAAjveWSEj_SHSPvjACTN6MRAvLGLXzRE5slwuNEn7nFFuCi7vXIuVekiIhXk8TrOy7k1TN0etykrPUJZo8pfgpFlIwNRoZG-vZ/s1600/I-win.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvKoZU1MWBvYY1aa3AyeGgE8fkZ2_6yzT_dlod3AOWXjAAjveWSEj_SHSPvjACTN6MRAvLGLXzRE5slwuNEn7nFFuCi7vXIuVekiIhXk8TrOy7k1TN0etykrPUJZo8pfgpFlIwNRoZG-vZ/s1600/I-win.jpg" /></a></div>
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Yeah, no unnecessary gloating.<br />
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p.s.- The time it took to put that image together? Totally worth it :) </div>
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Why is an Orange?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14031581638604813320noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5373070411999383213.post-25079697947142196232012-11-11T12:11:00.000-08:002012-11-11T12:11:33.137-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUHU3P-zEvjIDUcMSynB4Z2A3bdJyX-3qgdofmtlG8LqzzhlXMa8m-HBLbeJSo7EeKFRj0ijyi7eUH1CpwkQjeTkq0Wn6QgV4RP8xk0zhN8XUI20sY045PAL3efAsnRO4NVZGAKslMP0n2/s1600/poppy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUHU3P-zEvjIDUcMSynB4Z2A3bdJyX-3qgdofmtlG8LqzzhlXMa8m-HBLbeJSo7EeKFRj0ijyi7eUH1CpwkQjeTkq0Wn6QgV4RP8xk0zhN8XUI20sY045PAL3efAsnRO4NVZGAKslMP0n2/s1600/poppy.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />Why is an Orange?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14031581638604813320noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5373070411999383213.post-9268117493907164822012-11-02T10:46:00.001-07:002012-11-02T10:46:43.618-07:00Vote updateOkay, so for some reason the poll (which I put up last night) has reset itself. When i went to bed there were 4 votes, but now there is only 1. I googled (yes, that is now a verb) to see if anyone else is having this problem, and apparently it's happening on several blogs. No one has an answer why yet, but hopefully it will be fixed soon!<br />
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Anyway, for the sake of fairness (because this is such an important issue I don't want people to think I'm cheating), the votes when I went to bed were 1 yes, 2 no, 1 doesn't care.<br />
I'll try to check the vote at least once a day to keep a semi-accurate tally, so when I win it will be even more glorious :)<br />
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If you haven't voted yet (and consequently have no idea what I'm talking about) read the post below and feel free to weigh by voting on the left side of the screen, where the "Bus Points" usually are. Merci and TGIF!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidkMIN2d7NLRy4aEcrgxQZ0YmfCUSCpcizK8CglU_bBcgVNHtrpXO_lS7QkXoF-bZDAhlmxcZ9efTCKCFdZSfRhs2xWthH5_wypdcDyPXcKRTvG1HYnguXDZPIrsyq-EXR-TCShZTA9zTs/s1600/TGIF.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidkMIN2d7NLRy4aEcrgxQZ0YmfCUSCpcizK8CglU_bBcgVNHtrpXO_lS7QkXoF-bZDAhlmxcZ9efTCKCFdZSfRhs2xWthH5_wypdcDyPXcKRTvG1HYnguXDZPIrsyq-EXR-TCShZTA9zTs/s1600/TGIF.png" /></a></div>
Why is an Orange?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14031581638604813320noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5373070411999383213.post-39578190468287954202012-11-01T17:01:00.000-07:002012-11-14T07:28:35.112-08:00Vote! No, not that vote, a different vote.<i><a href="http://whyisanorange.blogspot.com/p/about-us-about-our-blog.html">Posted by K </a></i><br />
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VOTING IS NOW CLOSED, FOR THE (SEMI) ACCURATE RESULTS CLICK <a href="http://whyisanorange.blogspot.ca/2012/11/voting-closed.html">HERE</a><br />
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<br />The first vote in <i>Why Is an Orange?</i> history!<br />
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This vote is brought to you by my brother-in-law, who insinuated I was crazy for mixing two actresses up and insisting the doctor from <i>Stargate SG-1</i> (on the left, Teryl Rothery) plays the wicked step-mother on <i>Once Upon a Time</i> (actually played by Lana Parilla on the right). <br />
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Yes, I may have mixed them up and insisted I was right, but, in my defense, they look the same. Seriously, they could be twins. And I would know, being a twin myself.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg11DJbOjoc0XGHUB288JP6DON1ecYWJinrGROZ0VMEMqsnI2y7DHpXlC4WrhzzGez02VFoL5oR5sBONxCXWpoTTYO0lpsgip5m2tmRj55ZVTPzt-oUOi28ZKtouyg1cayB3xMTsq7akKVL/s1600/vote.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="277" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg11DJbOjoc0XGHUB288JP6DON1ecYWJinrGROZ0VMEMqsnI2y7DHpXlC4WrhzzGez02VFoL5oR5sBONxCXWpoTTYO0lpsgip5m2tmRj55ZVTPzt-oUOi28ZKtouyg1cayB3xMTsq7akKVL/s400/vote.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>Left</i> - Teryl Rothery from (<i>Stargate SG-1</i>), <i>Right</i> - Lana Parilla (<i>Once Upon a Time</i>)<br />
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Anyway, don't let my opinion (correct though it is) sway you, I'm looking for unbiased input to decide the matter. Please vote (on the left side of your screen), the options are:<br />
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<li>Button #1: Yes, K is correct</li>
<li>Button #2: No, K is crazy</li>
<li>Button #3: You could care less, but you still want your opinion heard.</li>
</ul>
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The vote is open for 1 week!<br />
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p.s.- in case someone thinks I'm cheating, these are the pictures from their IMDb pages, which is totally legit (well, as legit as the internet is...)<br />
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p.p.s.- please vote. If no one votes I'll be forced to log-in on various computers around the city and rig the data to make it look like people care, and that victory would just be really hollow. But I'd still count it as a victory.<br />
<br />Why is an Orange?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14031581638604813320noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5373070411999383213.post-70593344825121927672012-10-25T17:57:00.002-07:002012-10-25T17:57:49.998-07:00K & M Watch a Horror Movie : Paranormal Activity 4<i><a href="http://whyisanorange.blogspot.com/p/about-us-about-our-blog.html"><span id="goog_1045691369"></span><span id="goog_1045691370"></span>Posted by K </a></i><br />
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<b>***Warning, if you have not seen Paranormal Activity 4, there may be spoilers in here. I don't really know, I haven't seen the other three so I'm not sure what "gives away" plot points. Either way, you've been warned!*** </b><br />
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Last Friday M, the gang and I went to see <i>Paranormal Activity 4</i>. M is actually a fan of the series, which is odd, because I would not have pegged her as a horror movie fan. We watched <i>The Shining</i> together once and had very different reactions:<br />
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M:</h3>
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Me:</h3>
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Needless to say I'm not a Horror movie fan. Either I'm bored stupid or scared stiff, there isn't really a middle ground. Neither is very enjoyable.<br />
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However, it's almost Halloween, so in the spirit of the season, we all agreed to meet at the theater for a viewing of <i>Paranormal Activity 4</i>. I should probably mention I haven't seen any of the other three Paranormal activities, so I wasn't up on the "plot". I wikipedia'd it, which I thought would be good enough to cover the major plot points. Was I ever wrong.<br />
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It started out okay, some flashy camera work, but nothing I would consider too scary:<br />
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Then suddenly, with the appearance of a brunette woman, the entire audience lost their minds. Seriously, the theater was full of gasping and screaming, and I was sitting there like "What? It looks like a soccer Mom. I don't get it."<br />
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That confusion pretty much encompassed my feelings for the entire movie. Apparently brunette lady was possessed, and went after the little boy next door as part of some demon deal...but really there were 2 little boys, but one disappeared before the end... Plus, according to Wikipedia, brunette possessed lady kidnapped the little boy at the end of the third movie, so how did he end up with another family?? Was it because the demon was too good to change diapers??<br />
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After the movie, we met outside the theater to discuss:<br />
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Booya. The brother opinion was on my side this time!!<br />
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Later that night...</h2>
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I ended up having a sleepover with M, so we could chill and watch the New Girl tv show that we both find hilarious. Around 11pm I went to sleep in her spare room.<br />
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11:00pm</h3>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXmJxT9UW1_Y5elEiCtdO2OEf1V6sv99DDoq0RMz0k96_xHRE2cKEKGLwO0ftMOCgTALLgMbc-RW0r6JbA5NnrCCZDR37cB6H_PFYzCrTPKEA2rPD7Zq2h7CHQLhDIgSxm3kA0gEoYtrdf/s1600/paranormal7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXmJxT9UW1_Y5elEiCtdO2OEf1V6sv99DDoq0RMz0k96_xHRE2cKEKGLwO0ftMOCgTALLgMbc-RW0r6JbA5NnrCCZDR37cB6H_PFYzCrTPKEA2rPD7Zq2h7CHQLhDIgSxm3kA0gEoYtrdf/s1600/paranormal7.jpg" /></a></div>
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<h3>
11:05pm</h3>
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<h3>
11:06pm</h3>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDJmdVe4BBbp2PrvEu0niXDG0JSisyP-DDhYruBJ_vKO0RZ9pYPvF97yzolzcNSElwmC1EUhd8DO6Jydbzejxr7d1lkxezLIr1hoDLcGV4BtqFbAcsl15-PIaUnMCbaI6PeOvVXxnSkRg_/s1600/paranormal9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDJmdVe4BBbp2PrvEu0niXDG0JSisyP-DDhYruBJ_vKO0RZ9pYPvF97yzolzcNSElwmC1EUhd8DO6Jydbzejxr7d1lkxezLIr1hoDLcGV4BtqFbAcsl15-PIaUnMCbaI6PeOvVXxnSkRg_/s1600/paranormal9.jpg" /></a></div>
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It was Darcy the cat. Not a demon lady. I swear these cats are part of a conspiracy to drive me crazy.<br />
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Anyway, I guess the movie was more scary than I originally thought. Point to M.</div>
Why is an Orange?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14031581638604813320noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5373070411999383213.post-6034580314331874102012-10-18T14:38:00.000-07:002012-10-18T14:38:15.929-07:00My day so far....♪One of these days is not like the others ♪<br />
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♪One of these days is missing something ♪<br />
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♪Can you guess which day is not like the others? ♪<br />
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♪One of these days is going to suck! ♪<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaRVKSUKR5YEr_YxlXOla6TLJf1-druO1pqfU0Jx71DjyIgG-rheBpZ5hi6pepki7CRcix1ahWymeMgElRRjvixrbWWUvg9yBPltKG8hyygOYK5m3ufoICISp3NgNMMUivmpyM_CGq-pEA/s1600/forgot1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaRVKSUKR5YEr_YxlXOla6TLJf1-druO1pqfU0Jx71DjyIgG-rheBpZ5hi6pepki7CRcix1ahWymeMgElRRjvixrbWWUvg9yBPltKG8hyygOYK5m3ufoICISp3NgNMMUivmpyM_CGq-pEA/s400/forgot1.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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Have you guess it? That's correct! Thursday has a conspicuous lack of purse!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG4AfUKf1Gy7dduuo_1XtyZSXlR6TaSY5b277JHh17Gt6H50C518lTaxzV4GvKUjGQeKg1I_G2CaOaBtJP38_FU22W44KfCFB8Rc8gkyh6SCx-1zsAYEPPmn1mxtTNVvPHzWecNcflrB5l/s1600/forgot2.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG4AfUKf1Gy7dduuo_1XtyZSXlR6TaSY5b277JHh17Gt6H50C518lTaxzV4GvKUjGQeKg1I_G2CaOaBtJP38_FU22W44KfCFB8Rc8gkyh6SCx-1zsAYEPPmn1mxtTNVvPHzWecNcflrB5l/s400/forgot2.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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I somehow managed to leave the house without my purse. How is that even possible? I'm going to blame it on the fact it was 6am, and for some stupid reason I had left my bus pass in my coat (as opposed to my purse), so I didn't even notice the bag was missing until I was sitting on the bus trying to find my radio.<br />
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You may ask why I didn't get off the bus when I noticed it missing? (or you may not care, but since this is my blog I figure you've got to have some level of interest. Or you enjoy MS Paint.) I considered it, but then I thought "if I get off this bus, I'll be late for work, then the fact I got up at 5am to be on-time would be pointless! Plus then I'll have to stay late to make up the time, which is going to suck out loud." I just could not accept the fact that it would mean I got up at 5am for nothing. <br />
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I talked myself into thinking I could make it through the day without my purse. After all, I had my buspass! AND my coffee. Maybe that would be enough.<br />
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But as my ride continued, I slowly realized all the stuff I'd have to make it through the day without:<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0nvfVXX1SuZ2Gw9dsWv9S9mxqXDlOBaxUSN6pjVXRMTz39jV9LRJxRvqjq3-DdHcHW61m0iU19f_MdFmzYeSbvdtcNLaWT2or0Tw_Cl9faPLUUsEheaZk2JGJYLtfpBJNwLDmrs1jcLCx/s1600/forgot3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0nvfVXX1SuZ2Gw9dsWv9S9mxqXDlOBaxUSN6pjVXRMTz39jV9LRJxRvqjq3-DdHcHW61m0iU19f_MdFmzYeSbvdtcNLaWT2or0Tw_Cl9faPLUUsEheaZk2JGJYLtfpBJNwLDmrs1jcLCx/s1600/forgot3.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No cell phone.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFVzfKPXnz20xNZ7a5lq66lZvWPAr26ofjTxUt1jggMHowHvyu9EGrhTim-MT2wa8i6UpzuphiiXnPTK8xVQCRyCOuD_0L0qWnMZfVHLVHbBULyT-wj3Fm1Nefh-OciakFUZrQK7PNRIrO/s1600/forgot4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFVzfKPXnz20xNZ7a5lq66lZvWPAr26ofjTxUt1jggMHowHvyu9EGrhTim-MT2wa8i6UpzuphiiXnPTK8xVQCRyCOuD_0L0qWnMZfVHLVHbBULyT-wj3Fm1Nefh-OciakFUZrQK7PNRIrO/s1600/forgot4.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No radio. And by extension, no $10 000 if they play the magic song</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYSRnhRNTyVrE7B9gmF5jcJbaUIw2dwid2otEQBUU_HDgGK5Q1yNBWZumS5eDR8LlgNsRADfX7QfIdSOvrYSW12hvCPg0aQ-Asnlf_IqyiBOG-8NaQT6cyN_cb2nu6V_e4Bt-Dl5zPLqzD/s1600/forgot5.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYSRnhRNTyVrE7B9gmF5jcJbaUIw2dwid2otEQBUU_HDgGK5Q1yNBWZumS5eDR8LlgNsRADfX7QfIdSOvrYSW12hvCPg0aQ-Asnlf_IqyiBOG-8NaQT6cyN_cb2nu6V_e4Bt-Dl5zPLqzD/s1600/forgot5.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is supposed to represent money. I'm too distraught to draw money properly.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Needless to say, it's been a weird day. The bus ride home was rough. It's surprisingly hard to stay awake when I'm not listening intently to the radio. Anyway, I'm reunited with my purse now, so balance is restored!<br />
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It's almost Friday people! Time to celebrate!<br />
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<br />Why is an Orange?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14031581638604813320noreply@blogger.com0